those ears. “The brothers are here. Everyone will be entering your office soon.”
I’ll think about killing Jean-Pierre on another day. Now, there’s business to decide.
I continued to focus on the baby in the angel’s arms. “Have David bring in the map.”
“He only has a map of Russia.”
“We will only be discussing Russia in this meeting.”
“What about the rest of Europe?”
“That’s for this evening. We will also have to do something about Italy.”
Pavel cleared his throat. “Have you considered who should deal with the chaos down there?”
“I’m thinking of Nikolay. He’s cool and collected.”
“He doesn’t have the heart to middleman the Italians and Nigerians.”
Frowning, I turned his way. “And I suppose you do?”
He nodded.
“I’m not sure, if you’re ready for Italy.” I returned my attention to the fountain. “I was thinking you should get the Netherlands. Luka held that territory. You should thank me. It’s calm but bringing in a decent amount of money.”
“There’s not much I can do there. On the other hand, there is an empire is to be had in Italy.”
I ignored his argument. “Tell everyone to come in.”
Pavel turned around and headed out. “Do you want the men to bring in tables and chairs—”
“No.”
No one would sit. All would stand today. All would remain uncomfortable. The disruption in Paris had ended. I had my mouse back. We had lost one twin, but the other was safe.
Now there was other business to handle.
Many had died with my war months ago. Sasha had been my number one, and Luka my number two. Both had betrayed me.
Now, I had positions to fill. Two men to surround me and a third to maintain a sense of checks and balances. Three men to provide their wisdom and protection. Loyalty needed to be at their cores. There could be no more betrayal in the days to come. They needed clear minds and severe obedience. A clear statement of who was leading and who was following. They would stand the whole meeting, understanding that even their comfort would be decided by me.
And then we have the other major problem.
There was more than just territories and positions at stake. Someone was threatening my mouse. During these meetings, I would be scrutinizing everyone.
Whose involved with these monkey heads? Who are all the people I will kill this month?
Long ago, Uncle Igor made me read Sun Tzu’s the Art of War. It was an ancient book written by an accomplished leader and military strategist. While many things in the Art of War proved to be sound advice, two things remained in my mind forever. The first idea was to know your Enemy, you must become your Enemy. The second was to keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.
Both were sound advice that I would use in these next days.
All the men in my office that were invited were the same people who had been on my property during the time of the first monkey head incidence. Most I considered loyal. Due to these last weeks, none of that mattered anymore. I would suspect them all, until they were proven innocent.
Who could it be?
The first message had been after the party where I officially introduced Emily to the brotherhood.
Someone had invaded our personal space and placed several cut-off monkey heads on our bed. They had laid the rotting objects in a pattern, forming a word. It must’ve been twenty tiny heads. Blood pooled around each one. The message had been in fenya and said, welcome.
Fenya was a form of slang—broken Russian. Words and sayings used among criminals, murders, thieves, and peddlers. It sometimes included some Greek and Yiddish, but it was a dying language. Most men from Uncle Igor’s and my father’s generation were the ones that still used it.
Could that be a clue? Does it tell me that this person is from my father’s time?
Moscow Police went over everything in my bedroom. In the past, I paid several on the force to not only cover up brotherhood problems, but to also handle personal issues. These cops had found no significant forensics. No threads of clothing snagged. No footprints in the back or front of the house. No material information.
No new fingerprints besides Emily’s, mine, and the usual staff that consistently came into our bedroom. That meant something.
The next message came while we were in Paris.
I thought back to my past conversation with Zahkar. I was in Paris with Emily while he updated me on what was going on in Moscow.
“There was another message for your mouse,”